


New

by misbehavingvigilante



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Chronic Illness, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Self-Harm, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:45:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbehavingvigilante/pseuds/misbehavingvigilante
Summary: The serum was a blessing really.Really, it was and Steve was in no way trying to make light of all the sacrifices that went into creating it or from preventing it from going into the wrong hands either. However it was odd experience when to date the bulk of his life experiences had spent in the constant throes of damage and disease to suddenly be bereft of most of that.





	New

**Author's Note:**

> it's my good ol friend painsonmia paired with the good old I'm going to be in pain for the rest of my life thoughts that crop up ever few months. just chronic illness things. 
> 
> Anyways, this was a vent fic, I believed I tagged accurately but it's better to overwarn than underwarn when dealing with such themes like this. I firmly believe it should be explored more that Steve was a chronically ill person for most of his life and the serum fixing that though arguably a good thing would also be a difficult thing to come to terms with. 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy and no don't worry about me excessively, it's a vent fic, it's good to get the feelings out rather in. Let me know if you think I should alter any tags, though.

The serum was a blessing really.

Really, it was and Steve was in no way trying to make light of all the sacrifices that went into creating it or from preventing it from going into the wrong hands either. However it was odd experience when to date the bulk of his life experiences had spent in the constant throes of damage and disease to suddenly be bereft of most of that.

Again, that it was a good thing the serum worked as intended, and it’s effects had kept him alive several times to date that even thinking these thoughts filled Steve with a deep sense of shame.

But they kept coming. It’d been easier when there was a war, when there had been no time to have such thoughts because his mind had to be on battle strategy and just trying to keep his men if could and he never could keep everyone alive, could he?

But in the wake of peace, beloved and dear peace, the thoughts had come back and it had been a lot harder to keep them at bay.

Something was wrong with him that he missed how he was before.

That he didn’t know who he was without pain with every step, without a rattle at each breathe, and without the world always looking a bit different than what everyone else saw.

Steve bit his lips through, removing his teeth from his lips to find them already whole and new as before, the only sign of any injury at all was the blood running down his chin. He swiped that off with a sigh.

That was an utterly unproductive action.

It’s not like it would take, he didn’t exactly want it to take did he? His body could take a beating and that would help far more people than if it was as fragile and weak as before not that Steve had ever let that stop him. His health or size had never been a deterrent for his fighting spirit and determination to stand up for what was right.

There was something to be said about his risk taking – self destructive – tendencies, the serum’s limits weren’t exactly quite known being the only really viable subject in that return. If had survived being frozen, it wasn’t too extreme to give more thought of what else he might be able to survive.

What else he could throw himself at.

Pain was usually a warning sign but when you got use the initial foghorn of pain, it dulled into white noise instead. Always present, always there, never leaving, never curable.

Or that’s how it was supposed to be.

There was an echo of faint steps that brought Steve back to reality. The sound grounded him and removed him from his frankly disturbing thoughts.

Was that disassociation? To lose awareness and track like that?

Or was it good old fashioned PTSD? That’s what they were calling it nowadays right?

There was just so much adapt to that it was often overwhelming. It was tempted to retreat back into what was familiar but you couldn’t really do that when so much of what was once familiar just wasn’t there anymore.

Steve closed his eyes, steadying his breathing which had gone ragged as his thoughts had been racing before and placed the steps. His hearing was good enough now to pick up differences normal humans weren’t capable, certainly things he never could have imagined before having one good ear.

The way the shoes hit the ground suggested something with a slight arch, nothing curved or long as heels but something that lifted the shoes off the ground in a natural, unassuming ways rather than flat shoes. The material sounded expensive and the confident gait of the cadence told it was Tony long before the man had ever graced the room.

It wasn’t as if they had gotten along too well by now, but Tony’s all-consuming and loud personality like a super nova bursting in front of him was actually a good distraction.

A better distraction than ruining his gym equipment surely.

Be it Shield or Stark tower it really seemed like he had a personal vendetta against such things with the frequency that he destroyed them.

“This is uh the pot calling the kettle black here but do you do anything but workout? It’s not like you have to worry about your figure, old man.”

It was tempting to respond to that comment with a jab of his own, Steve might have rose to the occasion if he had been in a better mood actually but somehow being in a bad one meant he hadn’t wanted to fight at all. For once.

It didn’t mean he suddenly knew how to communicate that, if he didn’t return Tony’s remark with his own then what did he do?

God, why did he do anything besides fighting? He didn’t seem very good at it.

He’d never been good at socialization in the past, always having Bucky for a filter there but without him, without everyone else, having to learn how to that again, in a brand new world just was an incredibly daunting task.

“Okay.” Tony said, long and drawn out that made Steve focused back on him again. “I am not sure what’s going on here exactly, but do you want a hug or something? I’m not good with…” Tony mimed the gesture for talking as if he had seemed to forget it somehow.

There were bags under his warm eyes, so maybe he was sleep deprived.  

Steve laughed.

It was inappropriately and likely very hurtful by how Tony’s stature had gone very still for a second in the way that most people’s heart would temporarily pause out of shock, but Tony’s tech wasn’t quite like that. It was stable and right now Steve really envied that.

“That might be nice.”

“You are really sending some mixed signals here, Rogers.” Tony’s tone was softer and unsure but he still walked towards him. Steve wondered exactly how this was going to happen at all, he was bad at making the first move as evident by what happened with Peggy to begin with.

Another wave of hurt washed over him, the same time as the warmth of Tony’s body pressed against him. It was gentle yet loose hug, probably a sign of their lack of intimacy as they still didn’t know each other that well personally and had gotten off on the wrong foot terribly. Despite all that, it was still the most comforting and Steve leaned in an unabashed need.

Tony squeaked and Steve almost pulled back before he was righted in his assumptions. “Didn’t take you for such a hugger.”

“Sorry?”

“No, no, it’s good. You’re fine.”

Steve relaxed again. Tony had started to hum, softly and soothingly like something out of a lullaby. Whatever the tone was Steve didn’t recognize so it must have been something new, but it didn’t seem bad.

It was strange to have been comforted by Tony of all people, but maybe new wasn’t always bad if it could be like this.


End file.
